This is 33.

On October 31, I’ll be 33.

I’ll have a few more strands of grey hair. I’ll have another wrinkle between my eyebrows. Another year under my belt. Another year of adventures, experiences and memories. Another year that I survived from this mental hell that I feel daily. I could have died a thousand times, but here I remain among the living. I didn’t think I would live this long. I never expected life to turn out in the way that it did, but in a way life has a way of surprising us.

I will be 33. Further away from my 20’s, even further away from my teen years. Further away from my past and midway into my present. Yet, still I sit here feeling that I have cut myself wide open, exposing all this pain I feel before me. It’s hard for people to read it, it’s hard to people to hear it, and it’s hard for anyone to understand it. Still its hard to say that one day I won’t be here, and one day all I’ll be just a memory to my peers and to my friends. One day I will cut myself deep enough that it will let the light in. At 33, I feel too old to feel this way. Too old to continue feeling each and every single strand of these emotions. Every single pain, every single happiness, every single bit in the emotional spectrum. After 33 years, I am tired.

I spent my 20’s conforming to everyone else’s expectations of me. Doing everything that everyone else wanted and paying no attention to how I was feeling and how it made me feel. I closed myself off from the world and pretended that everything was fine. Getting into my late twenties, I spent those years making up and apologizing. Making it up to everyone that I’ve hurt in the process, apologizing for my actions and the way I am. Once again accommodating my life to everyone else’s expectations and needs. Because to people I am not allowed to be human. I am not allowed to make mistakes and to make attempts to redeem myself from these same mistakes. I am suppose to be happy all the time. I am suppose to make everyone else’s life easier and watch myself fall beneath and in-between the cracks. I have to apologize for being too vocal, too emotional, too contradicting, too human.  Nobody wants to hear when you’re hurting or upset. Nobody wants you to express your emotions in the only way you can. I’ve watched people fade into and out of my life, more times than I can count. I have seen people act differently around me or just ignore me.  I am tired.

All I do is find ways to apologize for who I am. That’s all I can muster up these days. I am sorry for being this way, sorry for who I am, sorry if I have hurt you in any way. I am sorry for my past and sorry for what spills into my present. I feel guilty for feeling all this pain. On average I feel like I am the worst person in the world and everything I do is wrong. I can’t help but feel like the worst daughter/sister/friend and everything I do is wrong. I apologize constantly and people may think it’s insincere but the reality is it’s the most genuine I can be.  It’s this paralyzing fear of letting everyone down and knowing I can’t do anything about it. Yet, all I do is spend the next year doing everything in my power to make up for my actions. All I can do is spill my guts out, out into the open for everyone to see. Truth is I am not okay. I am not even close to being okay. I am going to make mistakes until I can make everything okay. I am going to contradict myself. I am going to make plans and fail on them. I am going to hurt, cry, and fight myself through all of this emotional bullshit. I am going to be honest about how I feel. I am going to admit to myself that it’s okay to be selfish. It’s okay to say “No” every now and again. It’s okay to feel this hurt when the whole world is telling me it doesn’t exist. I can’t hide these scars anymore than I can hide my feelings. Long sleeves can’t hide scars, when all we have left are our hearts on our sleeves. I can’t sit and pretend it doesn’t hurt when people pretend that how I feel or what I am feeling doesn’t exist. Because it’s a part of me that I can’t escape.

At 33, I just want to be selfish. Say “No” to a lot of things that do not fit in with my life. Start accommodating myself to my own life. Stop apologizing for who I am and just find my own ways to be happy. At 33, I am not going to feel guilty about my emotions. I am not going to feel bad about who I am, when I know deep down there is good inside of me. At 33, I am going to do things that are going to make people upset but they are not living my life, I am. At 33, I am going to be okay with people leaving because I can’t make everyone happy. And at 33, I am going to do everything in my power to find happiness in everything that I do, even if it kills me, even if it scares me, even if it gets me out of my comfort zone. At 33, I am going to be okay, I won’t be perfect but I know I’ll be fine.

This is 33 and I’ll gladly accept the charges.

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